Indestructible
by Darth Kieduss the Wise
Summary: Instead of selling his soul, Dean allows an Archangel of the Lord to possess to bring Sam back and stop the Apocalypse. Set during "All Hell Breaks Loose Part II"
1. Yes

**I'm 22 (July 5) and my second nephew has been born.**

EARTH  
MAY 17, 2007

"Dean. It is so, _so_ good to see you," she purred. She inhaled sharply as she got up close and personal, only a few inches from Dean's face. "I mean it. Look at you. Finally got your family killed, all alone in the world. It's too sweet. You got to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."

Anger surged in Dean as he turned his head to lock eyes with the punk-ass crossroads demon.

"I should send you straight back to hell."

"Oh, you should, but you won't," she teased. The demon walked around him. "And I know why."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean scoffed, turning to face her.

"Yeah. Following in Daddy's footsteps. You want to make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead and, let me guess, you're offering up your own soul?"

"There are a hundred other demons out there who'd love it get their hands on it," Dean said, struggling not to lash out as the demon scoffed. He was aware that Hell wasn't a nice place to be, but he couldn't let Sammy rot. He made a promise to John. "And it's all yours. All you got to do bring Sam back. And give me 10 years...10 years and then you come for me."

"You must be joking," the demon scoffed. She raised an eyebrow as Dean's frown deepened.

"That's the same deal you give everybody else."

"You're not everybody else," she explained. She came close to whisper in his ear. "Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished anyway."

Dean barely nodded. "Nine years."

"No," she said with a smile.

"Eight."

"You keep going, I'll keep saying no," she laughed as she backed up.

Exasperated, Dean sighed. "Okay, five years. Five years and my bill comes due. That's my last offer. Five years or no deal."

Smiling, the demon came back put her face a centimeter in front of Dean's, as if ready for a kiss. Dean sored with hope. Maybe she'd let him off. Give him half a decade with Sam.

"Then no deal," she whispered.

"Fine," Dean said, hardly believing it.

"Fine," she said, walking around him to leave. "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He'd do anything now. This was for Sammy. "Wait..."

The demon stopped in her tracks. "It's a fire sale, and everything must go."

"What do I have to do?" Dean pleaded.

"First of all, quit groveling," she suggested with annoyance. "Needy guys are such a turnoff." She sighed. "Look...Look, I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a...puppy. You're just too fun to play with." She sighed again. "I'll do it."

"You'll bring him back?" Dean asked, hope flowing through him again.

"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year, and one year only." She stepped closer to him, faces inches apart again. "But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So...It's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?"

Just before Dean could grab the crossroads' demons head and lock lips with her to seal the deal, she started to choke. Dean stepped back as the demon pawed at her throat. Her red eyes rolled to the back of her vessel's head, blood coming out of her nose. Dean stood in horror, unable to move. What could do this to a demon? Was ol' Yellow Eyes killing her from a distance for making a deal with a Winchester? Or was it something, much, _much_ worse, the stuff nightmares are made of?

That was when she smoked out. Candy red smoke billowed out of her mouth. The cloud swirled in the air almost to form into a tornado as the demon's vessel dropped to the floor. The wind pushed against Dean, threatening to knock him over. Dean shielded his eyes as yellow flames consumed the smoke, turning it into white vapor.

Dean lowered his arm to stare at a pitch black sky. Dean looked around until his eyes laid upon the form of the woman he had almost made a deal with. Kneeling on one foot, Dean reached down for a pulse. He felt a faint one when a voice boomed in his ears.

 _She's alive._

Before Dean could even register someone, or something, had spoken, the nickel-plated Beretta 92 pistol loaded with silver bullets was in his hand. He swung the weapon everywhere, finger on the trigger, ready to blow a hole in any monster or person that came near him. He had just lost his brother and now his only chance at bringing him back. He was _not_ in the mood for Joker-Batman games.

"Who are you?! Show yourself!" Dean screamed. "I'm not in the mood for bullshit!"

Dean's vision turned white from the sky. That ringing in people's ears that was annoying as hell started buzzing in Dean's ears...loudly. Eventually, the white light and the noise was too much for him. The gun dropped to the ground and Dean placed his hands on his ears, trying to block out all the commotion but to no good.

 _Dean Winchester._

"What the hell?"

 _Do not fear. For I am not a demon. Or a monster._

Dean screamed as his ears started to bleed. As if finally registering his pain, the white noise began to decrease, at least in volume. It still had the same whining pitch but only enough to still annoy him. Dean was able to stand up right. The white noise spoke.

 _Dean Winchester_.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, wiping blood out of his ears and nose. "Well...what are you?"

 _I am Michael._

"Michael?" Dean asked, looking around. "Michael who?"

 _Michael, the Archangel of the Lord._

"Get the hell outta here. There's no such thing."

A white light appeared a few yards in front of him. Then a long brown haired man appeared before him. He manifested himself the same way Sam described the vengeful spirit of that priest did some months ago.

'Michael', if that's who he really was, didn't look like the angels the American media portrayed them as with white robes, harps and halos. This one looked like a bronze armored firepower-out-the-ass Goliath warrior type. He wore bronze armor like those of the Romans (yes, nipples included). He wore sandels and had bronze plating on his lower legs with a dark tunic covering his waist and upper legs. His bronze gauntlets shown in the moon light. Dean guessed the gauntlets carried a whole bunch of gadgets, maybe even poison darts, if he was the Batman kind of guy. His Anakin Skywalker-like brown hair reached down to his shoulders. He stood at six foot five inches.

 _That is your problem, Dean. You have no faith._

Suddenly, lightning flashed. On Michael's back, great shadowy eagle-like black wings appeared, stretching off into the distance. The light went out and the wings disappeared.

"Some angel you are. You almost killed this woman!"

 _Yes, I admit I was a bit reckless but she is alive and will be fine. My power can be over whelming to humans. So can my real voice. But you already knew that._

"You mean that white noise? That was you...talking?"

Michael nodded.

"Buddy, next time lower the volume, would ya?"

 _That was my mistake. Some_ special people _can perceive my true visage and voice. I thought, for a moment, you were one of them, due to our connection. I was wrong. It won't happen again._

"Wait. What connection?" Dean demanded, his nostrils flaring. "What do you want? What do you want with me?"

 _I'm here to stop you from making a grave mistake and the worst sin ever._

"That is the gayest thing I have heard."

 _Hmm. You're not the first to say that,_ Michael laughed.

Dean snarled. If there were angels, then there was a God. And if that was true, then Dean had a bone to pick with Him. Letting people die in such horrible ways, especially the Holocaust, Columbine and 9/11. And allowing people like George W. Bush, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Ann Coulter, and Donald Trump exist. Donald Trump and Bush, worst of all. Either this God was sadistic and got off on human suffering in dickishness in the case of the mentioned celebrities, or He just didn't give a damn about those He created. Dean could feel Michael's deep sadness.

 _Yes, I know how you feel. We aren't allowed to interfere. God has not allowed us to walk the earth since Christ's birth. Why? You and your brother's role in the world is far larger than you can imagine. But I have seen what will occur, and I cannot let that happen._

"Yeah, okay," Dean said but he didn't have a damn clue what he was talking about.

 _I sense your confusion. Know that I didn't come to you randomly, Dean. I'm here to stop you from initiating the end of world._

"Wait, what? How does making this deal make the world end?" Dean asked. Michael waited a moment before continuing.

 _Your deal and your subsequent damnation to hell is the first step towards the Apocalypse, Dean. For it is written 'The first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell.'"_

"Uh...I'm sorry, you lost me."

 _Everyone in Hell gets tortured. And eventually, they will break and join the dark side. Demons are trying to get 66 of 600 seals broken. If you go to hell, you will eventually break and torture other souls. This is the breaking of the first seal._

"Okay, I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld...Why break the seals? What purpose does that serve?"

 _To you humans, you think of these seals as locks on a door._

"Okay, last one breaks and...?"

Michael looked away for a moment, then looked at Dean again. _Lucifer breaks free and walks the Earth._

Dean's eyes opened a bit more. "Lucifer, as in the Devil? Satan? I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at Demon Sunday School...There's no such thing."

 _5 minutes ago, you thought there was no such thing as me._

Dean nodded. Michael had a point.

 _Dean, how else do you explain the existence of all the things you hunt? If what atheists say is true, that there is no God and you humans are just bags of chemicals in a sucky world, then how do things like demons, ghosts, vampires, ghouls and witches' powers exist? And Lucifer is the one who rules Hell._

Dean again nodded. Again, Michael had a point. Now that he thought about it, it made sense. Things like demons, vampires and ghosts would only exists if there was a Higher Power that allowed them to roam the earth. Dean had sent Meg, a demon, back to hell. Twice. So maybe that meant there was a Heaven, too. Heaven for the good souls, Hell for the damned ones. For death, there was a equal and opposite destination for the souls of the departed.

 _Dean, answer me this. Why do you think we're walking among you after 2,000 years._

Dean thought for a moment. "To stop Lucifer..."

Michael nodded. _That's why we're here._

"Well, bang up job so far. Stellar work with ol' Yellow Eyes."

 _I understand your grief. Dean, we tried to stop him. But there are other battles. Some we'll win. Some we'll lose. This one we lost. We are not unlimited. Angels aren't completely indestructible. There's a bigger picture here._

"And what is that?"

 _We'll get to that soon. For now, I need your help._

"How?"

 _You're my true vessel._

"What?"

 _I need you to agree to be my vessel. Allow me to possess you._

"Vessel? Possess?"

 _Angels cannot walk the truth without possessing a human vessel, just like demons. However, unlike demons, I need your permission to possess you. However, very few humans can withstand possession by archangels like me. The only reason you see me now is because you are my true vessel. And I want to keep you out of hell. With you as a vessel, I will save the world._

"Uh...how are you gonna do that? And why wait?"

 _I'm an Archangel. I have my ways. And I had to wait until you were strong enough._

Dean looked to his feet. His mind raced. "If I agree to be your meat suit, you gotta bring Sam back. You bring my brother back or no deal."

Michael smiled.

"You _can_ bring Sammy back, right?" Dean queried. "If you really are who you say you are. No offense, but I've never been a big believer in angels."

 _Of course I can bring back your brother. I wouldn't be here otherwise. Your wish is my command. All you have to do is say yes._

Dean's mind raced again. This was it. He was really gonna do it. Be a vessel. Allow someone to posses him. But at least it wasn't a demon. And it was to bring Sam back. If Sam was still kicking around he'd tell Michael to stick it where the sun don't shine. But Judgement Day was a runaway train. He understood that now. He just wanted off. And his brother back.

Dean took a deep breath.

"Yes."

Michael closed his eyes and raised his head back. The white light erupted from his...body. Dean shielded his eyes as the light blinded him and that white noise deafened him. The ground shook as the specter of Michael entered him, through his chest. Surprisingly, Dean felt no pain. No burning pain going down his throat. It actually felt...peaceful. When it was all done, Dean felt at peace. No pain nor sorrow nor anger.

Before Dean knew what hit him, he was back at the house they had Sam's body in. Dean/Michael approached the bed Sam was laying on. Dean prayed that he'd see the rise and fall of his brother's chest, so maybe he could back out his deal with Michael.

Michael moved Dean's right arm towards Sam's head, touching two fingers to his forehead. Dean felt immense power surge through his body, transferring from his head to his arm, to Sam.

Sam's eyes shot open as he breathed in his first breath in a sharp gasp. Sam tried to sit up, but his aching body protested. Michael gave control of Dean's body back to him. Dean knelt down and held Sam up.

"Woah, woah. Easy, tiger."

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

"Welcome back, Sammy," Dean greeted, smiling weakly.

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	2. You Made A Deal

**And it is written that, "The First Seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."**

"Dean...what happened to me?" Sam asked.

"Well, what do you remember?" Dean answered with a question.

"I-I saw you and Bobby, and...I felt this pain. This sharp pain, like...white-hot, you know, and then you started running at me, and...that's about it."

"Yeah, that—that kid, stabbed you in the back. You lost a lot of blood, you know...It was pretty touch and go for awhile."

"But Dean, you can't—you can't patch up a wound that bad."

"No," Dean truthfully admitted before uttering the lie. "Bobby could. Who was that kid, anyway?"

"His name's Jake. Did you get him?"

Dean shook his head. "No, he disappeared into the woods."

"We got to find him, Dean. And I swear I'm gonna tear that son of a bitch apart."

Sam tried to stand, but his body ached in protest. Dean stood to make Sam sit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, Van Damme. You just woke up, all right? Let's get you something to eat. Huh? You want something to eat?" Sam nodded. "I'm starving. Come on."

WOODS

As the demon Azazel approached where Jake Talley had set up camp, he stopped. Something sent shivers through his vessel's spine. The earth had shifted. Something was nearby. Something...familiar. His Spidey Senses were tingling through his whole body.

"Hmm, I sense a presence," he said. "A presence I haven't...felt since..."

His yellow eyes flared as reality hit him. He knew who it was. "Damn it..."

CABIN

Dean and Sam spent their table eating.

"And that's when you guys showed up."

"That's awful," Dean sympathized, taking a swig of beer. "Poor Andy."

"The demon said he only wanted one of us to walk out alive."

Now that got Dean's curiousity. "He told you that?"

"Yep," Sam scoffed. "He appeared in a dream."

"He tell you anything else?"

Sam shook his head. "No. No. That was it. Nothing else. You know, what I don't get, Dean, is if the demon only wanted one of us, then how did Jake and I both get away?"

"Well, I mean, they left you for dead. I'm sure they thought it was over," Dean took a large bite of pizza and turned away. "So now that Yellow Eyes has Jake, what's he gonna do with him?

"I don't know," Sam said, then stood up again. "But whatever it is, we got to stop him."

"Well, hold on," Dean came over, sitting him back down. "You need to get your rest. We got time."

"No, we don't," Sam said, himself protesting instead of his body.

"Sam, oceans aren't boiling, okay? Frogs aren't raining from the sky. Let's get you your strength back first."

"Well did you call the roadhouse? They know anything?"

"Yeah," Dean mournfully said, looking away.

"Dean...what is it?" Sam asked. Now he was getting worried. Dean didn't usually act like this. Dean sat down and prepared to tell the bad news.

"The roadhouse burned to the ground. Ash is dead. Probably Ellen— a lot of other hunters, too."

"Demons?" Sam whispered, closing his eyes in mourning.

"Yeah, we think so. We think because Ash found something."

"What did he find?"

"Bobby's working on that right now."

"Well, come on then," Sam urged as he stood. "Bobby's only a few hours away."

Dean stood also and grabbed by the shoulders for the third time. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop, Sam, stop! Damn it. You almost died in there. I mean, what would I've—can't you just take care of yourself for a little bit, huh? Just for a little bit?"

"I'm sorry. No."

Dean shook his head. Sam was the most stubborn man he ever met. Even more stubborn than John. Dean grabbed his keys. "All right. I'll get our things. You wait in the car. Get some rest while we're driving."

Sam started to talk, but Dean held a finger up. "That's not an option. You rest. Get you're strength back. Got it?"

Sam stood there for a moment, sighed then nodded.

"Good. Now come on."

A FEW HOURS LATER

Dean's parents knocked on Bobby's door. The door opened the door and looked at Dean. He nodded. Then he looked at Dean's companion and his eyes almost popped out in astonishment.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, making eye contact. He knew that he was gonna get a talking to behind close doors eventually.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam greeted.

"Sam," Bobby managed to say. "It's good to...see you up and around."

"Yeah, thanks for patching me up," Sam thanked, patting Bobby on the shoulder and walked past him into the house.

"Don't mention it," Bobby responded. Dean followed Sam, then looked back. Bobby looked at him hard, vibrating with unspoken emotion.

"Well Sam's better," Dean said stiffly. "And we're back in it now, so...what do you know?"

Sam looked at Dean curiously.

Later, Bobby had a bunch of books out and a map.

"Well, I found something. But I'm not sure what the hell it means."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Demonic omens...like a frickin' tidal wave. Cattle deaths. Lightning storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere. Here." He pointed to Wyoming on a map. "All around here, except for one place...Southern Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Dean pondered.

"Yeah. That one area's totally clean – spotless. It's almost as if..."

"What?" Sam asked.

"The demons are surrounding it."

"But you don't know why?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he asked.

"No, and by this point my eyes are swimming. Sam, would you take a look at it? Maybe you could catch something I couldn't."

"Yeah, sure."

"Come on, Dean," Bobby said, moving towards the back. "I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in."

"Yeah," Dean answered. He knew Bobby was about to chew and cuss him out. Nothing was gonna stop that. But Dean appreciated that he didn't do it in front of it.

 _It will be all right, Dean,_ Michael said. Dean wasn't so sure.

Dean and Bobby walked in the junkyard, passing old rusty junk cars. Finally, Bobby stopped and turned to face Dean.

"You stupid ass! What did you do?" Bobby yelled. Dean looked away. Bobby pushed him. "What did you do?! You made a deal...For Sam, didn't you? How long did they give you?"

"Bobby..." Dean pleaded.

"How long?!" Bobby demanded, grabbing Dean by the jacket.

"I made a deal all right," Dean admitted, then shook his head. "But not with a demon."

"Then who the hell could you've made a deal with? Some witch? Some voodoo Mafia?"

"Bobby, please..."

"Damn it, Dean."

"Bobby, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Dean, you may not be my kid, but you ain't too old for an ass whoopin' if you don't tell me what the hell you did. And after everything I've seen, I'm probably gonna believe it."

"I..." Dean tried. This was hard to explain. Hell, it was hard for Dean to understand. "You ever heard of Saint Michael?"

"The Archangel? Yeah, why?"

"Well, I was gonna make a deal with a demon to bring Sam back, but this St. Michael smoked her out and made me a deal of his own."

"What? What the hell did he do?"

"Basically, I agree to work for the angels, he'd bring Sam back," Dean half explained. He didn't have the heart to explain that Michael was in his body.

"So, basically, you've become the angels' bounty hunter?" Bobby theoried.

"Pretty much." Dean smiled. "I'm God's Boba Fett. Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. That's why I'm gonna kill him myself...I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother."

"Well, at least you're not going to hell."

"Yeah, the demon bitch was only gonna give me one year. Bitch."

Bobby shook his head, hardly believing this. Suddenly there was a clank from a distant part of the junkyard. Bobby and Dean looked at each other, then took cover by the side of a car. Dean and Bobby inched forward slowly. When the intruder came in vision, they grabbed person's shouders only to recognize the intruder. It was Ellen.

"Ellen?" Dean whispered. Ellen nodded with tears in her eyes. Dean took her into his arms. "Ellen. Oh, God."

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	3. Love for Humanity

**It would've been awesome if Azazel's eyes were red-rimmed yellow like the Sith such as Darth Vader in Star Wars instead of just plain jaundice yellow.**

TWO HOURS EARLIER…

"Howdy, Jake," a voice said. Jake jumped 'awake' and up to his feet. When he saw a supposed man sitting on a log nearby, Jake backpedaled. The man's eyes flared yellow.

"I-I'm dreaming aren't I?" Jake stuttered.

"I got a genius on my hands," Azazel told himself. "Well, congratulations, Jake. You're it. Last man standing. The American Idol. I have to admit, you weren't the horse I was betting on. But still, I gotta give it to you."

"Go...to hell," Jake fumed.

"Been there," Azazel retorted, having been thrown in there after he, Lucifer and the rest of Lucifer's fallen angels were cast out of Heaven. Hell was a place most demons hated. It was a prison of bone, flesh, blood and fear. Azazel was the current king of hell but he hated it. He could never bring himself to understand how Alastair loved it. "Done that."

"Everything you put me through! Dragging me to the place; making me kill those people!"

"All part of the beauty pageant," Azazel dismissed. "Jake, I needed the strongest. And that's you."

"Needed me for _what?_ " Jake demanded.

"Oh, I got a laundry list of tasty things for you," he casually answered.

Jake tightened his fists, his anger boiling in his dream-body. Jake didn't know how much more chaos he could take. He had convinced himself that killing Ava was necessary. She was a wild cat who needed to be put down. But killing Sam was different. He knew it was wrong but he did it anyway. He was desperate. It was still wrong.

"The only thing I'm going to do," Jake declared. "Is wake up, hunt you down and _kill_ you myself."

"You know, others have tried, it's not easy," the demon version of Jack Nicholson laughed. John Winchester spent 20 years trying to kill him, only to fail and die at Azazel's hands. "Trust me, Jake. You wanna be a good little soldier, here."

"And if I'm not?" Jake dared to ask.

"If you're a bad little soldier," Azazel said as he got up to get in Jake's face. "Well, that dear ol' mom of yours, that adorable little sister; I'll make certain that they live long enough to know the chewy taste of their own intestines."

Jake wanted to lash out, but he froze. First of all, he was dreaming. Ol' Yellow Eyes wasn't Freddy Krueger so that wouldn't do much good. And his family was now threatened. The second-lowest blow of any villain is to threaten a man's loved ones (the first being a crotch shot). But maybe this demon was just jerking him around to behave.

"No, Jake, I'm not bluffing," Azazel said, almost as if reading his mind. Jake looked away. He could he turn back now. He killed Sam and now he was in an impossible position. Ma, sis...Sam...God...forgive me.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Like I said: genius," Azazel lightened, placing a hand on the grunt's face. "Also, I've discovered that a big bad ol' nemesis of mine has showed himself after thousands of years."

"What the f-thousands of years?"

"What, you really thought I was some 54 year old bloke?" Azazel smirked. "This is just a meat suit. A nice meat suit. Listen, Jake, you do as I say and I promise, you won't regret it. I need you to take this guy out. He's in a place I can't access. You'll have to slay this prick for me."

"How?"

"All in due time, Jake. Don't worry, with my guidance, you'll turn this guy into dust."

Azazel patted a man on Jake's shoulder and smiled.

"Who is this...enemy?" Jake asked.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Jake snorted. "That's not a lot to go on."

"Hey, lighten up," Azazel retorted. "I'm still helping you, aren't I?"

Azazel put his arm on Jake's shoulder. A woosh sounded and suddenly they were somewhere else. They were outside a two-story hanger of some sort.

"Where are we?" Jake asked.

"We're outside one of my subordinate's personal lock up," he answered. "Keepsakes. Momentos. Things we'd prefer the rabble not prefer to get their grubby hands on. Talk to Crowley for the Angel Sword. Tell him I sent you. He'll obey. Second floor."

Jake's gut told him to run away. But his mind told him to obey. His family's lives were at stake. This demon could do almost anything. Slowly but surely, Jake started to head for the only door there. On the second floor, Jake entered a room that was full of antiques, paintings and boxes. At the far end, a man in a business suit was looking at some books. Hearing footsteps, the man turned to face Jake.

"Now just who the bloody hell are you?" the British demon inquired. "I don't like intruders…"

"I'm Jake. Azazel sent me. Who the hell are you?"

"Ah. Crowley, King of the Crossroads, at your service," the demon said, bowing his head. "What did ol' Yellow Eyes send you here for?"

"He told you have some sort...Angel Sword or something…"

"Ah, yes. Angel sword," Crowley said, going into some boxes. "One moment."

He opened a green military looking rectangular box. A lock magically unlocked itself, falling to the floor. Crowley opened the crate and pulled out an Excalibur looking sword. It hummed with power.

"Here you go," Crowley said. "One angel sword. Twice as long as an ordinary angel blade, but just as powerful. 5 and a half pounds. 35 inches long. Carbon steel. Guaranteed to slice and dice whatever goodie two shoes you and the boss need to…'gank' as you Americans say."

Jake took the sword, moving it this way and that for a bit. "Thanks."

"Give the boss my best," Crowley said as he returned to his books.

OUTSIDE

Outside, Jake came out with the sword, making sure Azazel could see it.

"Jake, this bad boy is gonna kill an Archangel," Azazel said.

"An Arch what?" Jake said, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right, kid, angels are real," the demon explained. "Now, most angels have simply a butter knife called a Blade. But this blade, it's longer and more power than a little angelic switch blade. But with this, you'll be able to slice and dice him."

"Who is it you want me to kill?"

"Michael."

BOBBY'S APARTMENT

"I sense you want to talk to me, Dean," Michael said, walking into the bathroom. Dean appeared in the mirror, as if Dean was talking from a portal from another dimension. Dean looked at himself all over.

"How-?"

"Doesn't matter how. What do you want to ask me?"

"Um...okay...Uh, yeah, I need to say a few things. Once you're done with this whole...wearing me to the prom or whatever you're doing, I want my body back. Understand?"

Michael nodded to the mirror.

"And, you know, what exactly are you planning to do?" Dean continued. "Be honest, what exactly is going on?"

"I'm going to kill the Yellow Eyed Demon."

"Yeah, but how exactly will you kill him? You gonna smoke him out like with the crossroads girl?"

"No. I may be an Archangel and the most powerful one ever, but the demon, whose name is Azazel, by the way, is too strong for me to exorcise. I'll just have to smite him. Or use this."

From his sleave, Michael pulled a blade. It was a long, silver, triple-edged dagger.

"What the crap is that?" Dean asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"It's what's called an angel blade," Michael explained before sheathing. "Can kill almost anything in the world. More powerful than the Colt but the gun would come in handy."

"Um...Okay..." Dean pondered. "One last thing...why do you wanna help us humans. Why now?"

Michael looked away from the mirror and considered this response. Michael asked himself the same question a lot.

"When God chose your kind as the object of His love," Michael explained. "I was the first in all of Heaven to bow down before you when He commanded us to do so. My love for God is greater than anything. But my hope for mankind is no less than His. But I watched you trample that gift. I have watched you kill each other over race, religion, greed and politics...waging war over dust and rubble and the words in old books. And yet in the midst of all this darkness, I see some people who will not be bowed. I see some people who will not give up, even when they know all hope is lost. Some people, who realize that being lost is so close to being found. I see, Dean. And your brother. Humans like you, Dean, are the reason I still have faith in humanity."

Dean had no response. But he felt...good. At least, his life could mean something. "Um...you're welcome, I guess?"

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